


Until the Morning

by littlemusings



Category: Glee
Genre: Cheerio!Kurt, M/M, Nerd!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemusings/pseuds/littlemusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At McKinley High School, the post-graduation tradition is to treat the graduating seniors to a fun, all-night lock in at the school--the catch being that no one can leave until five in the morning. Enter Blaine Anderson, valedictorian, and the captain of the Cheerios and salutatorian, Kurt Hummel and their desperate need to leave the damn building and go on with their lives. This is the story of their very first, extensive interaction in four years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> For Megan (andersonhummels), based on her own post-grad story!

Blaine just really wants to leave.

It was absolutely fun for the first two hours, but once the third hour struck, all he wanted to do was to go home and sleep, curled up with his diploma instead of jumping around one more damn time in the ball pit or run around the laser tag maze only to be absolutely destroyed by his best friend, Sam, for the umpteenth time. Plus, he could only eat so much Domino’s, ice cream cake and Wings-N-Things before he wanted to puke.

He wonders who came up with the idea of a senior class post-grad lock-in in the first place. The idea was fantastic in theory, an entire evening of bonding before everyone went their separate ways, but actually implemented the event was practically a kitschy, strobe-light laden sausage-and-eggs fest. Hundreds of seniors running wild about the gym until the wee hours of the morning pretty much warranted a death sentence for the teachers and staff in Blaine’s mind.

Standing at the side of the gym, where most of the festivities were happening, Blaine sips at his coffee, letting out a loud sigh. He lost Sam somewhere between the dunk booth and the laser tag station about thirty minutes ago and had nowhere else to go. The teachers flanked the doors, and no one was allowed to leave until five in the morning.

It’s bittersweet, he thinks, graduating from high school—not that McKinley was the best school—and entering adulthood. He’s set to enter NYU in the fall as a music and theater double major and was glad he was able to foster his love for music with the orchestra and the musical theater program (despite it being woefully funded during his four years of schooling). He’d miss his friends—especially Sam, Artie, and Santana—but he’d see them over breaks, and Artie was going to be in the same city as him.

He’d also miss his teachers, honors orchestra, and starring in musicals and performing in front of the school, but he’d have grander opportunities in the city that never slept. 

Finally moving away from the wall he was leaning on, Blaine chucks his now empty cup of coffee into a nearby trashcan and narrowly avoids being pushed by former varsity football players running around the sides of the gym. Hands in his pockets, he watches as all of the members of his senior class, all different types of people, yet so the same in the way they all blended together in the high school atmosphere. He never really got to know anyone outside of his tiny social group, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

Well, there was one exception: Kurt Hummel, captain—well, now, former captain—of the Cheerios and the salutatorian to his valedictorian. Kurt had graduated with a 4.2 G.P.A., just .2 below Blaine, while managing to juggle a ton of AP classes and the intensive schedule of practices Coach Sue forced the team into. Tall, gorgeous and absolutely stunning Kurt Hummel with his sky-high hair. They’d shared some classes together—well, most of their AP and honors classes—but never really talked or introduced themselves to each other, which wasn’t surprising due to the fact that Kurt was a Cheerio and Blaine wasn’t allowed to step one foot into the world of the football players and the cheerleaders.

Plus, he was one of the only other out-and-proud gay kids at McKinley.

Blaine stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks at the mat laid out on the gym floor to prevent people from tripping and hums along to the loud, pulsing beat blasting from the speakers. There is literally nothing else to do. He regrets not ditching the premises with Santana right after the graduation before they lassoed all the seniors into the gym.

He peers through his glasses at the crowd of students hustling around and his eyes widen when he sees an all-too familiar face standing opposite the corner he was.

Kurt Hummel.

Blaine swallows audibly and takes a deep breath. Should I? he thinks, biting his lower lip. He shakes his head and backs up a little, retreating near the wall again. Nah. Even if he did talk to Kurt, nothing would come out of it as they were both going to different schools.

Different schools in the same state, he remembered from the speech introductions during the graduation ceremony. Kurt would be going to NYADA for costume design and a minor in musical theater, which was something he didn’t expect, but he wasn’t surprised about the costume design bit as Kurt always dressed to the nines on Cheerio Casual Tuesdays.

Wow, he totally felt like a stalker.

_Well, shit._

He rubs his eyes and sighs, peering at his watch. It’s one AM. He’d either be asleep or playing The Walking Dead on Steam with Sam if it were a regular Friday night. He still had four goddamn hours to go.

His mind flits back to Kurt, and so do his eyes. Kurt’s just standing there arms folded, not talking to anyone, which was really weird as he was usually surrounded by his Cheerio lackeys and the guys on the football team. But, Blaine remembers that half the squad and the team ditched right after grad as well, opting to have their own shindig.

Blaine jumps when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he picks it up, Santana’s face flashing across the screen. He answers almost immediately. “Hello?” he says loudly over the music.

“ _B, hey!_ ” she yells on the other line. Blaine rolls his eyes. She sounds absolutely piss-ass drunk. “ _God, you’re such an idiot, not ditching the lock-in for this party! I’m having the time of my fucking life!_ ”

“Sorry, San, some of us have to be here,” he says, laughing. “Where are you, exactly? If you can answer me, that is.”

“ _Quinn Fabray’s house. Did you know…did you know she has a goddamn JACUZZI? If I asked my madre for a fucking Jacuzzi she would look at me and laugh, Christ._ ”

“Were you able to take a dip in it?”

“ _Hell, yeah! With Fabray herself! She’s fucking hot. Annoying as hell, but really, really, really fucking hot._ ”

“Okay, San, okay.”

“ _Get some ass over there while you still have the chance! Hummel’s there, go up to him, pull his pants down and grab that—_ ”

“OKAY, SANTANA, BYE,” Blaine yells. He begins to feign the line breaking up. “Gotta go, the signal is really shitty in here! Call me if you need a ride home!”

“ _Come on, Bla—_ ” Click.

He rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone in his pocket. Turning to look back at Kurt, he sees that he’s gone.

 _Well, shit._ Again.

He takes a deep breath and decides to brave the crowd again, giving his “excuse me’s” and whatnot as he wove past what seems like eons of people, keeping an eye out for someone he knows so that at least he could get past the last four hours of torture with someone. He stands on his tip-toes at the middle of the gym, and spots Artie and Sam playing at the basketball booth, shooting hoops. Taking a deep sigh of relief, he trudges his way to them.

And then—

_Bump._

Someone runs into him at full speed, and he’s nearly knocked over, but pivots in place to keep his balance, his glasses falling to the ground. He immediately drops to his knees and feels around for them, slightly getting bumped by the people dancing in the middle of the gym.

“I am _so_ sorry—oh my god, I'm really, really sorry, I didn’t mean to—” a voice gasps out, and Blaine looks up and sees the blurry outline of the guy who bumped into him; he was crawling and feeling around for Blaine’s glasses as well. All of a sudden, Blaine feels someone bump into his side and yelps, prompting the other guy to snap, “Damn it, Finn, I told you to watch where you’re going!”

Blaine finally grabs a hold of his glasses and pushes them up his nose. The other guy is already standing up, judging by the fact that Blaine can only see his shoes, and a pale hand reaches out to him. Taking it gratefully, he’s pulled up and his mouth nearly goes slack when he sees who bumped into him.

_Kurt Hummel._

“I’m really, really sorry for bumping into you like that. I was kind of trying to get away from people, and—yeah, I’m just…I'm sorry. Wait, you’re Blaine Anderson, aren’t you?”

Yeah, this is Kurt Hummel. It’s definitely him, with his perfectly sculpted…everything, from head to toe.

“Y-yeah,” Blaine manages to stutter. “And you’re Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt shrugs. “I guess. Hey, why don’t we get out of this sausage fest and stand off to the side where we can actually breathe and converse.”

“Agreed,” Blaine nods, and he’s taken by complete and utter surprise when Kurt takes his hand and pulls him forward, weaving them through the crowd. It was something different, holding a boy’s hand. Sure, he’s grabbed Sam’s hands, Artie’s hands, and other peoples’ hands in plays and whatnot and in the midst of escaping their parents on Senior Ditch Day, but holding Kurt’s hand is just something different, like strangely seeing the light of day with a whole new perspective: soft and warm, and just…different and new.

Weirdly enough, it feels like home, like holding hands with Kurt was just supposed to happen. However, he didn’t want to divulge that at all, considering the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word to Kurt Hummel at all throughout their high school career.

When they finally made it out of the crowd, Kurt lets go and they finally find a spot by a nearby wall to lean on.

“I thought this was going to be a crazy night,” Kurt laughs. “I had half a mind to leave and go to the party at Quinn Fabray’s place, but I decided against it.”

Blaine grins. “My best friend, Santana, she’s over there right now.”

“Lopez? Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you two walking around together. She seems nice.”

“Nice?” Blaine snorts, causing Kurt to arch a speculative eyebrow. “I’m just kidding. She’s a firecracker and can shoot some real snarky comments at times, but deep inside she’s a sweetheart.”

This was so weird, Blaine thought, just…talking to Kurt. It flowed so naturally and just…it was wonderful. The two of them just stood there, talking to one another and it wasn’t just any small talk, it was an actual, full-on conversation, the topics ranging from the latest summer fashions to politics to musical theater, and it’s…nice.

“Your dad is by far my favorite senator,” Blaine gushes. Kurt blushes and smiles.

“I’m glad you think that. I’ll let him know later.”

They stand in silence, and then Kurt slinks down to sit, and Blaine follows suit. “How come I never really talked to you before, Blaine?”

Because you were a Cheerio and pretty much one of the most popular guys in school who didn’t have the time of day for me, Blaine thinks, but says, “I guess we weren’t in too many classes together.”

“What a pity. I was lucky I ran into you on the dance floor. Honestly…these things,” Kurt says, gesturing to the bedlam in the gym, “They aren’t my thing.”

“But didn’t you go to a lot of parties and stuff?” Blaine blurts. Kurt laughs and rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

“Oh, those people wished,” he sighs. “As I said, these things aren’t exactly my cup of tea. I think I went to one this year, but I can’t be damned to remember.”

“I know what you mean. I went to this thing as a last-minute choice. I kind of lost my friends in the crowd.”

“That sucks. Well, I went here with my stepbrother and his girlfriend, Rachel, and I completely lost them. Well, almost, because Finn nearly ran you over earlier when we were looking for your glasses. Now he’s gone.”

“Here we are, wayfaring strangers,” Blaine says with a small smile. Kurt laughs.

“You are a really cool person, Blaine,” he says after a short period of silence. Blaine’s eyes widen and his mouth goes slack just a little. “I mean it! I…I honestly haven’t had a conversation as nice as this with…anyone in ages. I mean, I have Rachel and Quinn, but—”

“They wouldn’t understand,” Blaine says. Kurt nods in reply. “I know what you mean. Whenever I try to tell Santana, Sam, or Artie anything, they try to comprehend, you know? And I know they get it to an extent, but it’s nice to have someone with the same likes and dislikes to talk to, someone who gets me. And I know I’m not exactly who you hang out with—”

“Blaine. You…this is going to be weird since we just really met, but you seem like a much better person than the entire cheer squad and football team combined,” Kurt admits, cheeks darkening again in the dim light. “And I mean it. I’ve honestly been wanting to talk to you for ages but I could never pluck up the courage.”

Now it’s Blaine’s cheeks that feel hot and go dark, and he can only manage a shaky “Really?”

“I mean it. You always seemed so headstrong amidst all the bullshit that this school perpetrated for the past four years. I had to hide behind a Cheerio uniform just to get by.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you, too,” Blaine murmurs. “But I guess I was just too scared.”

“We both were, apparently.”

Their faces are much closer than they were before, but the space feels too…wide and too much for Blaine, and he leans forward slowly, eyes flickering to Kurt’s soft-looking lips, and he closes the distance. Kurt’s lips seem to meld with his, and at first it’s awkward and funny, their noses bumping awkwardly, smiling against each others’ lips and laughing breathlessly.

When Kurt pulls away, he says, “ _Holy shit_.”

“I have to admit, I’ve been wanting to do that for four years,” Blaine laughs.

“How about…um…we go somewhere else?” Kurt suggests. Blaine’s one step ahead of him; he stands up and holds out his hand to Kurt, and he takes it eagerly.

The two of them run along the sides of the gym, trying to find an exit unguarded by a teacher, when they notice that the door to the broom closet is ajar.

“Close enough,” they both say at the same time, and they burst into laughter feeling absolutely scandalous.

Blaine can’t believe he’s making out with Kurt Hummel in a broom closet at school. He’s sitting on top of a bucket, Kurt on his lap, his arms around his neck, and his own around Kurt’s waist, and right away, Kurt leans forward and begins sucking on Blaine’s lower lip, and _thank God the door is closed because if someone just heard the goddamn sound that just came out of my mouth—_

He tilts his head just a little to close the millimeters of proximity between their lips and it starts off all teeth and just a bit of lips and hardly any tongue, and soon their lips are gliding—and _whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa_ —Blaine suddenly has Kurt’s lower lip between his own, and he grazes his tongue over Kurt’s lip, and Kurt lets out a shudder, and they just keep on kissing and kissing, their kisses getting deeper each time.

At one point, Blaine doesn’t realize that Kurt pulls away and goes for his neck, sucking at the skin there, and he lets out a moan, his stomach twisting.

And then, it all goes to shit when the door opens, and Blaine jumps and hits his head on the nearest shelf and Kurt falls to the floor with a loud thump.

“Holy hell,” Sam says, standing at the door, eyes wide, a grin plastered on his face. “Uh, hey, Blaine.”

“Yo, I don’t think he’s in— _holy crap_ ,” Artie exclaims.

“Hi, guys,” Blaine grumbles, frowning and rubbing at his head gingerly. “How _lovely_ to see you here.”

“Well, uh, we got a call from Santana and she wants to pick her up soon and you’re the only one with a car and the lock-in ends in, like, thirty minutes so…yeah. We saw you run in here…”

“Hello,” Kurt grits out.

“Kurt Hummel, what’s up?” Artie laughs. “Uh, Sam, I think we gotta go, dude. He still does have thirty minutes.”

Sam snorts and waves, closing the door, but not before he laughs and says, "Use protection!" to which Blaine replies with a quick "fuck you," and Kurt immediately stands up to check on him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. He lets out a sigh, and then Kurt begins laughing, and his laughs get harder and he’s back on the floor. “What?”

“Did you see your face?” he says, letting out a snort in between laughs, and that’s when Blaine breaks into laughter as well. He gets off the bucket and sits down, leaning on Kurt’s shoulder, and the two of them just sit there, laughing.

“You…you are a real great kisser,” Kurt laughs, taking Blaine’s hand in his own.

“Right back at you, Hummel.”

The two of them just sit there in the musty janitor’s closet, holding hands.

“Do you think we should head out now?”

“Yeah.”

They stand up and Blaine helps Kurt dust off his slacks and coat and they both tuck in their shirts and adjust their ties. “Hey, uh, Kurt?”

“Mmmhmm?” Kurt hums as he adjusts his brooch.

“Would you…um…like to go out to get coffee with me sometime?”

Kurt’s eyes soften and he nods. “I’d love to.”

As they walk out of the closet and start walking around the gym itself, Blaine can’t help but ask—“You're going to New York in the fall, right...?"

"Yes, I am. NYADA. And I heard that you are, too--but NYU, right?."

Blaine nods. “Right. We’ll have all the time in the world to get to know each other, then.”

They both look at each other and just smile.

“But yes, I'd love to take you up on your coffee offer. I’m free tomorrow at noon.”

“That would be lovely.”

"Also, Blaine, if we're being honest here," Kurt says, "I ran into you on purpose."

They continue to walk around, and talk, and Blaine honestly wishes the night wouldn’t end because if this happened, anything was possible.


End file.
